


Siblings

by limeta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Black Hermione Granger, Gen, Period Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Relationships, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Sane Tom Riddle, Sibling Bonding, Teenage Tom Riddle, Time Travel, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23910922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: Hermione Granger, age 11, makes a wrong turn when shopping for her Hogwarts supplies and finds herself transported from the year 1991 to 1941. Tom Riddle doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that by trying to cultivate Hermione’s knowledge hungry side he’s cultivated himself a younger sister.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger & Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 36
Kudos: 350





	Siblings

Hermione Granger is an orphan. Not by choice nor by a death in the family. Her parents just haven’t been born yet. That’s all. She rubs her eyes and looks at the structure in front of them both. Tom Riddle is next to her. They’ve spent a year at Hogwarts, her first and his fourth. Their interactions have been minimal as he is an older boy in green and she is an annoying know-it-all that defies all gender due to her out-of-time mannerisms in blue. 

So, Hermione sways on the balls of her feet and asks, as anyone sensible does: ‘’We are to live in an orphanage now together, aren’t we?’’

Tom Riddle does not like this at all. He especially does not like this because Mrs. Cole knows Hermione and he go to the same school, so she will hand Hermione over to him and tell him to show her the ropes. Tom Riddle dislikes showing anyone anything that isn’t a well-timed hex to set them straight. Or sideways. It all depends on the hex in question, really. 

‘’Listen time-traveller-’’

‘’It looks really beaten down.’’

Tom Riddle self-consciously looks back to his summer abode and explains that this isn’t how her fancy way of life usually is and that she will have to adapt to it. 

‘’Well, honestly, as long as it’s got warm running water.’’

Tom Riddle’s silence is telling. Hermione begins to complain. ‘’NO!’’

‘’Just…’’ Haphazardly he waves his arms around, trying to articulate himself but whenever it comes to Wool’s orphanage he falls silent because it is terrible, ‘’it’s temporary. That’s what I keep telling myself.’’

‘’Are there rats?’’

‘’It’s too hot for them in the summer to be inside.’’

‘’EXCUSE ME?!’’

‘’Maybe you’ll get adopted!’’ Tom hopes she’ll get adopted and stop pestering him like this. The children are giving him odd looks. They don’t understand why he hasn’t already bashed Hermione’s skull into the side of the dirt road and told her to mind her business. Fuck, he thinks, they might see this as their opportunity to get back at him. 

Once they begin climbing the stairs he trips Hermione and she falls on her face on one step. And then begins to cry because her buck teeth are chipped. ‘’I call that an improvement, actually. They are smaller than they were before.’’ 

Hermione retaliates by jumping him. 

Tom Riddle honestly isn’t used to girls fighting back. 

‘’Fucking ‘ell!’’

‘’You are incredibly rude!’’

* * *

’’Do not mistake this for anything other than what it is: _convenience_.’’ Tom Riddle glares. Hermione crosses her arms and glares right back. 

Mrs. Cole’s taken one look at Hermione Granger accompanying Tom Riddle, seen something supernatural happen in a way that is distinctly not Tom Riddle’s hellish machination, and said that she’s far too weary to deal with TWO satanic creatures.

It isn’t proper for a girl and a boy to share rooms, by 40s standards, but Mrs. Cole finds herself to be a very formidable and very progressive woman when it comes to doing damage control.

Tom Riddle looks at Hermione standing in his room and knows that the room can accomodate another person (as it used to, before Tom Riddle’s dirven him off), but it’s been so long and he doesn’t want to share with a loud and small _child_.

’’You’re in the presence of a girl, Tom Riddle, don’t behave like an animal.’’ Mrs. Cole warns off and leaves them both to fend into a compromise.

’’Right, Mrs. Cole.’’ Tom Riddle smiles. He glares at Hermione, though.

And she’s beginning to realise that there’s a whole other side to him. Which is perfectly fine, because people are never who they appear to be. Hermione, for instance, isn’t just a teacher’s pet.

’’Which bed is mine?’’ Hermione asks. There are two beds. Tom Riddle has claimed both of them. One’s for his trunk. He physically takes it and pulls it off. Hermione somehow navigates over it. Their room is small and humid and it can barely fit two people, but they’ll make it work. Hermione thinks about the previous year and how her only friend’s been a boy in Slytherin. She plops down on her bed and looks at him.

He looks back at her, his gaze just as intense.

’’Do you think I’ll ever return to the future?’’

’’When was it that you came from?’’

’’1991.’’

’’Yes, I do believe you’ll come back to the future in forty-nine years.’’

Hermione narrows her eyes, scrunches her face up at this joke. ’’Boo.’’ She says.

Her friend isn’t deterred. In fact, he smiles.

She stretches out over the stiff and uncomfortable bed. Looking up at the ceiling gives her nothing except a sick feeling pooling in her stomach, telling her that she’s never going to see her parents or her grandparents or read Matilda again. Well, all right, Matilda will be published at some point and she’ll read her favourite book, then – but still! It’s a whole identity crisis she’s going through.

That very evening Hermione’s the one that can’t sleep: ’’This place is awful.’’

She hopes the ceiling won’t drop in on them and she’s sure that she’s seen at least a dozen of spiders, and even some cockroaches, as well as felt a foreboding sense of doom and inadequacy that she’s never felt in her entire life. Not to mention that the food is scarce and she’s hungry. All the time.

Tom Riddle is obviously pretending to be asleep so as not to answer her.

’’I said this place is awful.’’

’’Mhm.’’ He replies.

’’How do you live like this?’’ 

’’Listen, time-traveller, I thought it would be fun to know one, but if you are just going to draw attention to the negative in our lives I shall find someone more interesting to talk to. Good night.’’ 

Hermione glares at the back of his head, because he’s sleeping on the side and giving her his back. 

’’I can’t wait for Hogwarts.’’ 

’’That I agree with.’’ 

Hermione wills herself to go to sleep. She does sleep for a little while. But the discomfort is too great and she realises why she’s been given this bed and not the one Tom sleeps on. Outside of Hogwarts and its comforting walls dwells War. 

Not any war, oh no. 

World War _II_. 

Hermione knows, vaguely, that it ends in 1945. Tom asks her for more information and Hermione tells him that war’s never fascinated her and that she’s learned about many other things. 

’’Like books.’’ 

’’Oh yes, I know loads of lines from Lord of the Rings.’’

’’Wot?’’ Tom’s very easy to be fond of when he looks at you in sheer confusion. They sit together at meal time and have slop to eat, but at least they’re both magic and have an understanding that they’re only cohabiting civilly because everyone else is a jerk. 

’’I’m going to starve to death.’’ Hermione says as she pokes the food and it nearly decides to poke her back for her sheer audacity. 

’’Hm.’’ 

’’You talked a lot more at Hogwarts.’’ 

’’I had a lot more to say then.’’ 

* * *

Billy Stubbs warns Hermione away and tells her that she doesn’t seem like that big of a freak and if she wants to reenter normal society that she can. Or so Hermione understands from the terribly fast cockney. 

Herrmione nods, turns around, and beelines back to Tom. 

He looks pained to see her return. Hermione doesn’t seem to mind. She’s done dealing with bullies, both from the 80s, 90s, and 40s thank you very much. Billy Stubbs looks like nothing more than a bully who’s not yet found her weakness. 

* * *

And Billy has found her weakness. 

And the orphanage is terrible. 

And Hermione wants to leave. 

And Tom tells her, as he’s cleaning up the kitchens with her as their mandatory chores’ list lengthens the more Mrs. Cole drinks: ’’You cannot leave. If you do, you won’t be able to come back to Hogwarts.’’ 

’’Who says?’’ 

’’Administration.’’ 

’’Professor Daftledore you mean?’’ 

Tom snorts at the nickname, but he does nod. 

Hermione makes an aggravated sound in the back of her throat that threatens to spill into a scream, but it doesn’t. Tom hands her a broom and tells her to _dust_. 

So, Hermione dusts.

* * *

They’re out near the sea and no one is in Tom’s fifty-metre perimetre. Except Hermione. 

She asks why. 

Tom shrugs. 

Hermione jokingly asks if they’re afraid he’ll drown them if they get near. 

’’Most likely.’’

* * *

Hermione talks to some parents who want a young girl, but Hermione’s skin is the wrong sort of colour. Well.

_WELL._

* * *

’’I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT!!!’’ 

’’Racism? You mean to say that there isn’t any racism in the 90s?’’ 

’’Racism is horrible, but I’m kind of used to it from the 90s, though the sheer nerve – the flagrancy – the OPENNESS with which these people communicated their racism to me – NOW THAT’S WHERE I DRAW THE LINE!’’ 

* * *

Hermione has realised that she cannot fit in anywhere. The magical world tells her she is wrong due to her blood. The muggle world tells her she is wrong due to her skin. These are both things that she cannot fix. 

And it is most certainly not fair. 

Tom hits her giant bush of a hair with a duster and she glares at him. 

’’Life is not fair.’’ 

Because if life were fair, Tom tells her, you would be able to choose who you were born to. 

’’Who’d you choose?’’ 

’’Someone magical.’’ Someone who wouldn’t abandon me in an orphanage. 

Hermione rolls her eyes at this and says that she’d choose her parents because they’re the best. 

’’What’s that like,’’ Tom inquires idly, ’’having parents one moment and then not having them the next; better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right?’’ 

’’Whoever said that is terrible because I feel wretched whenever I think about my position. I haven’t been hugged in ages, Tom! Ages!’’ 

Tom snorts a laugh involuntarily, because of all the things Hermione could have said, this isn’t one he’s expected. 

She narrows her eyes, outstretches her hands, and lunges for him. He tries to fight her off of him, momentarily confused. Until he realises that she’s hugging him very intensely for a small twelve year old. Very weirdly and awkwardly, he wraps one arm around her form and brings her closer. 

It’s Tom Riddle’s first hug, as far as he’s concerned. 

It’s very weird. 

He’s not a fan of hugs. 

* * *

Billy Stubbs gets another rabbit.

Hermione wants to play with it, but Billy won’t let her or Tom anywhere near it.

’’He’s so mean!’’ Hermione characterizes Billy Stubbs.

Tom looks at Billy, holds his gaze, then lowers it to the rabbit. When he makes eye-contact with Billy again the boy’s eyes are full of tears. Tom smiles, for good measure.

He won’t harm the rabbit. It’s beneath him to attack a defenceless animal.

But Billy needn’t know that.

* * *

Hermione doesn’t know why, but Billy lets her play with his new rabbit. She names him Tom. 

Tom has many a problem with this. 

‘’What would you like to name him then?’’ Hermione scoffs. ‘’Lord Voldemort?’’

Tom raises his eyebrows at that. It sounds like a very fine name, too fine for a bloody rabbit, though. ‘’Where’d you get that from?’’

‘’Your name.’’ Hermione shrugs.

‘’My name’s Tom.’’ Tom hates his name. He says his name like it is an illness he has inherited from ill family members. 

Hermione rolls her eyes. Her friend is rather slow on the uptake sometimes. A lot of people in the past have different thinking patterns to the ones in the future: ‘’I read this book recently about codes.’’

‘’I see.’’

‘’You’ve got to be prepared. We are in war time, after all. And I found this section with anagrams. Come along, I’ll show you. It’s _very_ simple.’’ Her smile is split wider than Tom thinks is humanly possible. He decides to see what Hermione has in store for him. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle becomes I am Lord Voldemort. 

‘’Huh.’’

‘’Pretty neat, right?’’

‘’Yes.’’ He pats Hermione’s head like she’s a dog. She’s learned that it’s the closest he wants to show affection. ‘’It _is_ neat. Good job. If there are any German spies afoot, I will be sure to call you for your expertise, Hermione.’’

‘’Aw,’’ the girl shrugs, very pleased with herself but pretending to be casual about it, ‘’that’s sweet of you to say, Tom.’’

* * *

Abraxas Malfoy comes to visit.

Tom Riddle is having a heart attack. ’’How dare you invite him over here? You want the Sacred Twenty-Eight to know how we live?’’ The shame from his tone sends Hermione into a whirlwind of a rant where she says that just because of his self-esteem issues she shan’t be robbed of the only other friend she’s made whilst at Hogwarts. Besides, Abraxas doesn’t care about any of that. He’s one of those weird, _eccentric_ rich people.

Abraxas does care very much. ‘’You are living in a _HOVEL_.’’

Tom Riddle thinks that what little influence he has in Slytheirn is long gone now. 

‘’You two need to get fostered fast.’’ He commands them. ‘’This is no way for magical children to live. Let the muggles ruin their young, but all magical children are precious.’’

‘’Really?’’ Hermione, known mudblood, raises her brows at this constatation. ‘’You sure about that?’’

‘’Well, all right, you understand what I mean.’’ Abraxas doesn’t get a chance to try and explain himself before Tom Riddle begins pushing him off of the orphanage’s premises. 

‘’Thank you for stopping by, you know where we live now - you can send LETTERS. Goodbye, Malfoy.’’

Through a series of events that Hermione calls unfortunate, Tom Riddle winds up in prison. Because Mrs. Cole has been waiting for an opportune moment to catch him in ‘grossly indecent behaviour’ and has put two and two together to mean that: Abraxas Malfoy is the queerest bloody thing she’s ever witnessed and he’s friendly with Tom Riddle - ergo - he is queer by association. 

Which is illegal.

Hermione feels very bad. 

Abraxas promises that he’ll get him out of prison. 

Tom can’t retaliate because of that horrendously idiotic rule he’s sworn Dumbledore years ago that he won’t harm any more muggles as that is frowned upon and that people who hurt muggles go to Azkaban. 

* * *

Dumbledore winds up coming to pay his bail. 

‘’Mr. Riddle, I do apologize.’’

‘’Thank you.’’

‘’You can’t go back to that orphanage after this I fear… they do really want you out of there.’’ Apparently this whole queer business is personal to Dumbledore, so has gotten down from his incredibly high horse to see the situation from Tom’s eyes. It is dire. ‘’I… well… that is to say… this is a very…I had no idea muggles were still so backward about these things.’’

Tom looks at Dumbledore. Watches him flounder. Relishes in it even. 

‘’Sir, I’d like to stay the summer at Hogwarts.’’

‘’Absolutely not, Mr. Riddle.’’

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore looks at Tom Riddle and tells him, quite bluntly, that if he looks at his goats wrong that he’ll skin him alive. 

‘’Sir,’’ Tom understands things better than either Dumbledore gives him credit, ‘’I will not fuck your goats. They are yours to love however you damn well please. All I’d like is a room for myself, peace and quiet, and a place to eat. If you have anything for me to do that is not goat-related I will happily assist you.’’

They come to an agreement. 

A few days later Dumbledore unloads Hermione to Aberforth’s, as well, because she’s wound up in prison. Which is a feat unto itself as she is a twelve year old girl. 

‘’What the bloody hell did you do?’’

‘’What I had to.’’

‘’Did you murder someone?’’ Tom asks. 

Hermione is appalled. ‘’No!’’ She sheepishly shrugs. ‘’I couldn’t survive that wretched place without you and you wouldn’t give me an address.’’

Tom Riddle is convinced that Hermione Granger will be the death of him.

However, he does have to admit that if it weren’t for her he wouldn’t have met with Abraxas, gone to prison, and wound up somewhat, tentatively put to work in the Hog’s Head. A better alternative to Wool’s in any sense.

‘’Missy, you and I need to have a talking to about how you’re going to treat my goats now-’’

‘’Sir, I do not like goats.’’

‘’All right then.’’ Aberforth nods. ‘’What can you contribute? Tom knows how to cook well.’’

‘’I can tidy?’’

‘’Great. That’s settled. Until I do some renovations you two can share a room.’’

‘’Oh god no.’’

‘’Tom, we’re sharing again!’’

‘’No, _please_.’’

* * *

FIN


End file.
